Coming to an Understanding
by Tidia
Summary: This is a future fic. What happens after the hunt is over to Sam and Dean because of what was said in Shadows eppy. I rated it T for the language.
1. Chapter 1

Coming to an Understanding

Notes: Perhaps you were brave enough to read the death fic or maybe not? G But, no death scenes here, except the one in the beginning, and I think people can live with it.

Part 1:

It had been one week since the end. They had killed, what probably qualified as, a demi-god demon and lost their dad in the process. Wounded, they drove straight to Lawrence, Kansas and made a bonfire in Missouri's backyard for John's body. A Viking funeral pyre was fitting, and in the morning after it burned out they took the ashes to their mother's grave.

A few more days were spent with Missouri, recuperating. In those few days, Sam made a flurry of phone calls. It was April and there was still time for him to get into law school. Dean played chauffeur, not knowing what else to do except to help his brother. And then they were back at Stanford, back where it all started all those years ago.

Purposefully, Dean got out of the car and opened the trunk. He paused at Sam's backpack. He grabbed it and brought it to his brother, who stood, looking at the school with relief.

Sam placed the backpack on his shoulder. "I think I'm all set." Sam shut the passenger side door and gave the car a pat. "I'll let you know how it works out."

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "I can wait. . ." Then Dean noticed how awkward this moment had become, and he knew the next words out of Sam's mouth would pain him.

"No, I don't need you to." Sam reached out with one arm to give his brother a hug.

Dean stepped into it, stiff, and void of emotion. He cleared his throat, and pulled an envelope from his pocket. "I figure you could use this, until you got everything settled."

Sam held his hand out to resist, but Dean pushed it into his grip and wrapped his brother's fingers around the envelope. "Thanks. . ."

"It's not from credit cards. I know how you feel about that." Dean pulled the sunglasses that had been resting on his forehead over his eyes. "Keep in touch." He smiled and walked back to the other side of the car.

Sam didn't wave, and as Dean drove away he noticed that Sam never turned back. Sam was turning his back on his old life and walking into a new one, that Dean had a feeling didn't include him.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Five hours later he stopped for a drink. Five hours had kept him still in California. Dean didn't know where he was going-maybe Mexico. He just didn't know. He was lost, unwanted and aimless. Tequila would help, or take the edge off for awhile. It was a biker bar with some yuppies as ambience. Two shots later, the hollow in his heart was aching a little less.

"Look, I'm sorry, the lady didn't tell me she was attached." The man at the bar next to him was attempting to bargain with the larger, more menacing man who had recently approached. "Let me buy you a drink." The smaller man was gesturing to the bartender, and didn't notice that the Big Guy didn't want a drink, he wanted a piece of the wiry guy, and he was going to carve that piece out with a knife.

With a groan, Dean pushed himself away from the bar. "You don't want to do that." Evidently, this was another mistake for Dean—do not startle Big Biker Dude who is about to stab another guy, since all it got you for the trouble was a slice on the arm. "Shit," he exclaimed and launched himself at the guy. An elbow to the face insured that the biker dropped the knife. A palm strike to the solar plexus meant that the guy was not going to get up, and the kick to the side was just for spite, because Dean didn't want to do this. He looked around to the other occupants of the bar, who had gone silent. "You all want something from me—come on!" He called them out. The wiry man, who he had defended tugged on his arm.

"Come on, buddy, move."

Dean stepped a few steps backward, propelled by the smaller man. He noticed that the crowd was moving in on them. Although he had a death wish, it wasn't going to be at a biker bar. He followed the man out.

"I live about ten miles up the road, follow me and we can take care of that arm." The man gestured to his Harley.

Dean looked at his arm. It would be tough to stitch with his left hand, and if the guy was a psycho that was going to kill him, at least it wouldn't end at the biker bar.

Ten miles away from the biker bar was another world-beautiful homes and manicured lawns. The Harley signaled and Dean followed in the Impala up the cement driveway to a modern glass ranch sitting at the top of the driveway. Dean pulled the Impala by the Harley.

"I called a doctor friend of mine. He should be here in a minute." The man opened the door and Dean walked slowly behind him. "Have a seat. Do you want something to drink?"

"Drink would be good." Dean stood in the middle of the white living room. He looked at his arm again. He didn't want to get any bloodstains on his host's furniture.

The man came back in with a scotch, neat. "Thanks back there. My name is Daniel Foster." Daniel shifted the scotch to his left hand, and held his right hand out to Dean.

Dean accepted the handshake, and then the scotch. "Dean, Dean Winchester. Were you slumming back there?"

"A little bit, I didn't grow up like this," He gestured to the large room. "I feel like I owe you." Daniel sat on the corner of the ottoman, his button down shirt and ripped jeans looked odd in the luxury room.

"Nah," Dean shifted from his other foot, "just a few stitches and I'll be gone."

"A man on a mission." Daniel ran his hand through his dark curly hair. "You can sit down. A little blood stain will add character."

Relieved, Dean sat down, not getting too comfortable and still aware that his arm was bleeding. "Not really, not anymore at least."

Dean knew that he was being appraised by Daniel. The man obviously had money, and probably got it by following hunches and knowing who to trust. "What's your line of work?"

Dean laughed at the awkwardness of the question. "Used to be hunting-like a family business," Dean bit his lip, "but that's over."

"So you have family?" Daniel smiled. He pointed to a picture on the mantle. Looked like a family portrait circa the early 1980s. There was a mother, father and sister and brother. The perfect family. "My parents are gone now, just me and my sister."

Dean nodded. "Just a brother—look, I should be going." The younger man stood up. This was uncomfortable, and his heart was growing heavy again. "Don't worry about the stitches."

Dan stood up, putting his hands out. "Whoa, wait a minute. Look, you seem down on your luck and maybe I can help."


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

Daniel did help, giving Dean a job as head of security for one of his companies, and clearing Dean's name from the murder rap within two weeks. Daniel Foster was a self-made man and CEO of a multinational company. He had explained to Dean that this wasn't a handout. He needed a hunter mentality to help run security.

Dean was doubtful at first. Daniel had set him up at the corporate apartments, but he left his duffle bag packed and ready to go just in case. In a month, he had a few friends, mainly Dan and some co-workers, and he liked the job. He wasn't sitting behind a desk from 9 to 5. He was a troubleshooter and sometime mercenary when needed.

Dean didn't share the news with Sam. He called two months after sending Sam his first paycheck. Sam had told him he had gotten accepted with a scholarship into Stanford Law.

"Hey, did you get the money?" Dean made the call from the private plane he was taking to Seattle. He had told Daniel about his fear of flying, and Daniel had guaranteed that the problem was that he had flown coach. Dean was hoping that was true. "How are things going?" Dean said when Sam didn't reply right away.

"Dean, yeah, man, I got the money- you don't have to send it though. I mean, how?" Sam replied.

"Dude, don't worry about it. I just want you to concentrate on school." The flight attendant smiled at him, and gestured that it was time for take off. "Maybe we can plan to get together soon?"

"Yeah, sure," came the slow answer. "I'm busy the next few weekends, but maybe before school gets started."

Dean fumbled with the seatbelt, before clicking it into place. "Sure, yeah, man-I'm busy too." And the phone call ended with no plans for the future.

Sam was busy until Thanksgiving. In the meantime, Dean had purchased a ranch, but again didn't feel comfortable sharing that with his brother. Phone calls were dependant on Dean calling Sam, never Sam calling Dean, and with Dean making sure that all was going well in Sam's world. In these times Dean remembered that Sam was still his responsibility and that his heart would never harden.

Thanksgiving had been strained, with Dean driving up to Stanford with a fancy meal in tow, only to leave 6 hours later. At Christmas time, Dean called to invite Sam to Boston. Work had required him to look at the security system of Daniel's new acquisition. Sam had already made plans to go skiing at Whistler with his friends. "Merry Fcking Christmas," Dean said to the cell phone after closing the phone.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

Sam sat in his office. He was a first year associate and was putting in long hours , but he was happy. He had gotten a job prior to taking the bar, and was just waiting for the results. He knew he had passed though; maybe it was some psychic remnant from his old life, but he knew everything would be in his grasp-the life he always wanted. A knock on the door broke his reverie.

"Can I help you?" Sam smiled at the well-dressed man thinking it was a client who had wandered into the wrong department.

"No, not really," He pointed to the sign on the door. "I just wanted to meet Sam Winchester."

Sam squinted his eyes, trying to recall if he had ever met the man before. "That would be me." Sam felt an awkward pause hanging in the air. He felt as if the man were appraising him. Was he from another firm? Had he read one of Sam's law review articles? The young man tried again. "Was there something in particular you were looking for?"

"No," The man took a seat, opening the buttons of his jacket. "I just wanted to meet Dean's brother."

"You know Dean?" Sam was startled. Already his thoughts were gaining speed-Dean was in trouble, and would wreck everything for his younger brother.

"Yeah," the man smiled. "He works for me, and he's a good friend."

Sam was still hesitant and doubtful. "I'm sorry, and you are?'

"Daniel Foster," The man itched a spot on his forehead. "You know who I am."

"Yes," Sam cleared his throat. "You are this firm's largest client."

"I am." Daniel leaned forward. "You're not what I expected."

Sam met the scrutiny by pulling his shoulders back to show his height. "What did you expect?"

"I don't know," Daniel shook his head. "Maybe I thought that I could understand why you cut your brother out of your life." Daniel picked up the paper weight with the firm's insignia from Sam's desk. "You know we may be related one day?"

"No, I didn't," Sam raised his voice then brought down the volume again, "and I didn't cut my brother out. . ."

Daniel moved the paper weight from hand to hand. "My sister and him—she calls it buddies with benefits-God, I hate that, but I hope it will turn into something else."

"I didn't cut my brother out." Sam repeated himself. He didn't know what Dean had told this man, and didn't want The Daniel Foster to think less of him.

"Hell, no, you accept his hard earned money." Daniel stopped moving the paper weight and gripped it in one hand.

"It isn't like that," Sam leaned back in his chair.

"Kid, you owe him." Daniel gestured to small office. "He made this all possible."

"What?" Sam brought his chair abruptly up from its position. He had worked too hard to get into this firm-taken the right internships, gotten the grades and earned this job.

Daniel nodded. "He pulled strings, through me, to get you this job." Foster paused. "If you don't believe me you can ask Tom."

Tom was the senior partner who had hired him. Sam sighed. "Dean?"

"You're brother heads security for all my companies-saved my ass too many times now, and lots of money." Daniel placed the paper weight back on the desk. "Got a great system for stopping credit card fraud." Daniel shifted in his seat. "He just helps extract one of my people from Mexico who got kidnapped. Took a bullet for his trouble."

Sam stopped rubbing the back of his neck as he took all the information in. "What! What happened? Is he all right?"

"He's at home-hurt his shoulder." Daniel placed his hands on his knees, getting ready to leave. "It isn't like this is the first time he has been hurt in the last few years."

"What?" Sam was not absorbing what he was being told, and finding out that his brother had been injured without Sam being their to help left him sickened.

"He stills does some of that hunting –you're family business." Daniel shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, I know about it- a little beyond me," Daniel stood up, "but Dean patented that EMF detector."

"Umm, I don't do that anymore." Sam stood up, undecided if he should walk this man to the door, or stay rooted into place with shock.

Daniel glanced at Sam, and then at his watch. "Maybe you should visit him?"

Sam knew what the gesture meant. Daniel Foster thought he was wasting time talking to man who didn't appreciate having a brother that was a good friend. "I didn't know he had a place. I figured he was hunting and stuff."

"Yeah, here's his address," Foster took out a pen and a card and wrote the data. "Use it or lose it, because I don't know if you're worth it-no matter what your brother says about you."


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

After a night of not sleeping, Sam packed up the Tahoe at 5 am. He drove, memorizing the map quest directions after reading them for the third time. By 8 am he pulled his SUV over in front of Dean's house. It was in a rural area in California, but still pricey. Sam watched as a Porsche, with a blonde behind the wheel, zoomed out of the dirt drive, kicking up dust as she made it to the main road.

"It's now or never," Sam said to himself, and crept off the side of the road and into the drive. Tall grass was on each side of the drive-yellow and green mixed together. The drive was long and ended with a house that surprised Sam. The house had a stone front and over sized porch, with large glass double doors, and large windows. It was two floors with a three car garage attached. Sam figured the Impala had one of those spaces. To the side of the house there was barn with a penned in area. Two horses were in the area.

Sam parked his car in front of the garage, and made his way up the gravel walkway. The door was open, but the screen door remained closed. Dean was in the back of the house, and must have heard something because he yelled out,

"Tonya? Damn, girl, you told me I should rest. . .' Dean turned around, placing his arm back into the sling. He smiled and then stopped, noticing that it wasn't Tonya, but his brother at the door. He took a step forward. "Sam?"

Sam rubbed a hand down his face. He hadn't seen his brother since graduation, a few months earlier. He hadn't taken in the fact that Dean had changed. Thinking it over- Dean's clothes were better, and he had confidence, not just a cocky swagger anymore. Sam had been blinded, always seeing Dean as the same with that sense of tragedy that surrounded him. He should have paid attention; instead he spent an hour with his brother and then told him he was going to celebrate with some of his friends. "Can I come in?"

Dean nodded, and in a few strides had undone the latch on the door. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. "Your arm?"

"It's nothing," Dean finished putting on the sling properly, wincing slightly as he adjusted the strap. "How did you know where to find me?"

Sam looked down at his feet, ashamed that he didn't know his brother had this other life. "Daniel Foster."

"Shithead," Dean muttered under his breath. He turned around and padded with his bare feet into the sunken living room. He sat down on the leather chair.

Sam followed slowly, not sure if he had been invited in or not. "Told me some stuff."

"Oh yeah?" Dean looked up at Sam. "You can have a seat, dude."

Sam went down the two steps and took the seat opposite his brother. "Why didn't you tell me, you were his head of security for Foster Industries?"

Dean looked at the mantle, away from his brother. "You never asked."

Sam followed his brother's line of site. There were three photos on the mantle. Sam, Dean and John in one photo, an old picture of their mother and a picture of Daniel Foster, Dean and a few others laughing. "I just thought. . ."

Dean snapped his head back to his brother. "That you didn't need me, and that I was in the past." Dean stood up, taking a few steps closer to his brother. "Sam, you never asked what was going on in my life. You never called-nothing. Dude, I get it." He tapped himself on the chest. "Took me awhile, but I get it."

Sam stood up. "I'm sorry, I just thought, that you needed to move on . . . without me. I told you that you had to let me go."

Dean shrugged his shoulders and went over to the mantle, resting one hand on the stonework. "Yeah, worked out for the best, I guess."

"Dean, thank you isn't enough." Sam placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I mean for the money and job."

Dean shrugged off the hand and shook his head, not facing his younger brother. "I don't want thanks, Sammy. I want a family-you and me-my family. That was the way it was supposed to be." His voice became low. "Do you ever think about anything? The hunt? Mom? Dad? Jess? Me? Somehow, it's still important to me."

"Yes, Dean, I think about it." Sam replied matching his brother's same low tone. "I'm not some freak that can just forget about it all."

"You know I always thought that maybe I was the freak." Dean lightly punched the stone wall three times. "The one that was truly fucked up, because my family was all that mattered and I would do anything, anything at all for you, Sam. Then when it was all over, there was nothing, and you left me hanging in the wind."

"Jesus, Dean," Sam wiped the tears that were brimming. "I just thought you were strong, and would be fine." Sam touched his brother's arm, trying to get him to turn around. "You were always the strong one, Dean."

Dean turned and looked at his brother. The strength wasn't physical, it was from his heart-he could love so much that it overcame all the bitterness, and the wrongs done to him. "And the handsome one too." He grinned, lightly slapping Sam's face.

"Dean," Sam bowed his head. "Can you forgive me? I was stupid. . ."

Dean ruffled his brother's hair. "You've been a fckin' idiot, Sammy."

"You're right."

"Of course I am. I'm the big brother." Dean had never relinquished the mantle of his childhood. Being a brother was always his life, his love and passion, and maybe he was supposed to be just a better brother than Sam, love him a little more than Sam loved Dean. If that was the case, then that was fine. Dean could accept this truism. Dean's stomach growled in hunger. "You want some breakfast?"

Sam sniffed then coughed, ridding himself of the emotions of a moment ago. "Yeah, that would be good." Sam smiled a smile of hope for a renewed brotherhood. "Is the Impala in the garage?"

Dean returned the grin, seeing that his future would include his younger brother. "Dude, of course, right next to the Harley and my truck."

The end

Note: Thank you "two" for finding the error 


	6. Chapter 6

I have decided instead of adding onto this story, I would write another one. So coming soon (as soon as it is betaed) please look for Back in Business which will tell the story of the first hunt after the occurences in Coming To An Understanding. Here is a sneak peek into Part 1.

Thank you! Tidia

Part 1:

Daniel Foster took off his glasses, and leaned back in his chair to relax. It didn't make a difference. He wasn't going to be able to relax until he found out who was embezzling money in his San Antonio operation.

"Damnit," he said out loud. He liked to think that the company treated its employees well, and to have someone bite the hand that fed them was inexcusable. He had sent his sister, just last week, to review the accounting practices at the operation site. She came to the same conclusion-someone was playing with the numbers. His companies were privately held, which made it feel like the person was personally attacking him.

Daniel sighed, put his glasses back on and looked around his office. The sagging plant in the corner had more yellow leaves than green ones. He got up to trim the leaves. If his secretary saw him, she would send emails around the company that Daniel Foster communed with plants. But, Daniel was looking for a distraction not to call Dean. Dean had just returned from Dubai, where a Russian ex-patriot was trying to blackmail one of Foster Industries key employees.


End file.
